


Anger

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Some things aren't funny. Archer's reaction to 4.22 "These Are The Voyages..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Trip grins.

Maybe he winks, or maybe he cringes from pain, but he is definitely grinning. Like it's nothing. Like he's killed himself for nothing and thinks that it's some sort of inside joke they share.

Half an hour later, Phlox tells him that Trip is dead.

Later, Archer will not remember nodding quickly, or leaving the sickbay, or informing the crew.

He will only remember that goddamn grin.

* * *

Being a starship captain taught Archer to be part actor. There was a time when he had two options: his true emotion or a blank stare. Now, he's faking enthusiasm and hope and optimism while his best friend is decomposing in a box.

He thinks he's putting on a decent show, because most everyone is smiling and nodding and clapping now and then. Through most of the speech, he keeps his eyes focused on Ensign Sato or Ensign Mayweather or Lieutenant Reed.

They seem to happy, he thinks. They are smiling and nodding and clapping with the rest of them. Archer is giving a speech and his crew is happy and T'Pol is alone in the outer hall while Trip is decomposing.

Archer's seen decomposed bodies. He's seen the flesh half eaten away and the innards and skeleton exposed. Now, he can see Trip lying in a box, decomposing.

Trip's skull is grinning.

* * *

Archer sees Trip's parents before the funeral. Mrs. Tucker's eyes are veiny, and she's clutching a hankerchief with which she dabs her nose from time to time. Mr. Tucker is straight-faced and more somber than Archer's ever seen him. He takes Archer aside, and says: "I told you to watch out for him. I told you that she couldn't take losing another child."

For a moment, Archer doesn't respond. Mr. Tucker's eyes are fierce. They are the same color as Trip's are.

Were.

"I tried," is all he can think to say.

"Not hard enough."

"I know."

Mr. Tucker looks away, toward his wife. "Why? Why did he do it? I know you told me. But, I don't understand."

Archer furrows his brow. "Trip was...trying to save..." But Archer doesn't know how to finish his sentence. Trip was what? Suicidal? Trying to save what? Archer? Why did he do it that way? There were other ways. After ten years of finding other ways, Trip must have known there were other ways.

Finally, Archer says, "I don't know."

"That's not good enough," Mr. Tucker says.

When Archer doesn't respond, Mr. Tucker leaves him. Archer goes to T'Pol and sits by her. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't look at him.

* * *

They will make the NX-01 a museum, Archer is told, with a memorial plaque affixed to the wall of the bridge documenting everyone who lost their lives on Humanity's first mission to the stars.

They also tell him that he is to captain a new ship named the Triumphant.

Archer doesn't respond to the second piece of news right away, but he does point out that the plaque should read "Charles 'Trip' Tucker III" or future generations might call him Charles. Trip hated that.

* * *

A gunfight is not what Archer would call successful first contact, but they came out of it alive. Reed sustained a few injuries, but the doctor says he'll be all right. Archer is in his cabin writing a report to Starfleet when the door chimes.

"Come in," Archer called. He didn't want to see anyone after such a horrible failure, but he can suck it up for the time being. At least it gives him a moment away from the report.

The door slides open, and Michaels walks in. He stands very still, with his arms behind his back.

"Yes?" Archer swivels his chair around to look up at the young chief engineer.

"S-sir. I wanted to thank you for...for saving my life."

Archer's stomach tightens. He sits up straighter. "I want you to see Reed more often for those training sessions."

"Yes, sir, I agree," Michaels mutters.

Silence. Michaels shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Michaels?" Archer tries to take the edge out of his voice, but he knows it's still there. He tells himself that he's irritable because he's busy.

"Yes, sir?"

"Is that all?"

"Nuh...um." Michaels jerks his head to the side, as if he heard something. He swallows heavily. "Yes, sir. Thank you again, sir."

Archer watches Michaels skitter away.

Two years later, Michaels will be shot to death, and his body will be left on alien soil.

* * *

"Ill?"

T'Pol is standing very still, her hands hanging awkwardly by her hips.

"Doc says I have a few years. at best, but it's..." Archer pauses. He makes a fist, watching his knuckles push against his skin. "It's debilitating. It's hard to say how much longer I'll be able to maintain command."

He is not looking directly at her, but he can see her sway slightly, as if she were pushed. She says nothing.

"I haven't told the crew. Or Starfleet. When it starts to get bad, I want to know I can trust you to take command from me."

T'Pol jerks a nod. Her eyes are staring are fixed on the wall across from her.

"I'm just not ready to give up yet."

"I understand," she says, almost in a whisper.

He takes a step toward her and puts his hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him; he looks down at her. She is maddeningly ageless.

"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to express how muchâ€”" He cuts himself off. "I want you to know."

"I do," she says.

Archer pulls his hand back and turns away from her. He listens to the doors slide open, then shut.

* * *

The hospital in San Diego is little more than a place to die for Archer. He knew it when he first woke up to a doctor's face. He knows it now. There is no point to being there, but he doesn't ask for another place to die.

It's hard for him to think now. Sometimes, he'll find that days have passed since the last day he remembers. Things move that he doesn't remember moving. Flowers come and go. Visitors come and go. Roommates come and go.

One thing is constant. Whenever he wakes, T'Pol is sitting next to him. She's usually reading. He can watch her with her head bowed and her eyebrow arched for hours, listen to the smooth brush and snap sound of a real book page turning. She looks almost the same way she did when he met her, and that's comforting. Sometimes, he'll ask her to read aloud to him. A few minutes after she's read it, he doesn't remember it anymore.

He wakes with a start from a dream he was having about Florida, before it was blown apart and asks, "What day is it?"

"Tuesday," T'Pol answers. Her book is closed, sitting on the beside table under a stark white lamp. She looks pale.

"I think today is the day," he says.

The hint of an expression shows itself in the corners of her mouth and between her eyebrows.

"You don't have to go to the funeral." It's getting hard to breathe. "I know you hate crowds."

T'Pol curls her hand around Archer's. Her skin is searing hot.

He closes his eyes for a moment, forcing a deep breath, then opens his eyes again.

"There you are," he whispers.

He dies with a grin on his face.


End file.
